Monday, October 1, 2012

Mornings here sound like Sponge Bob and barking dogs and taste like Cheerios. There is the slap of slippers on wood floors, negotiations for who gets in the bathroom first, and the dryer is going, it's always going. There is a cat who moves, purring, from warm lap to warm lap and shower steam escaping into the hallway. The coffee machine sounds a ready bell that calls the grown ups to the kitchen.

Mornings here require finding exact change for milk money, searching through wallets, purse bottoms and sometimes the piggy bank. Lunch is packed and email is checked. Frozen berries in the microwave and where is the checkbook? The dogs want out the dogs want in the dogs want out again.

Here it sounds like, "Mom?" and "Babe?" and "Daisy get down from there." Another glass of juice is poured, another cup of coffee. There is toothpaste and a ringing phone. The hamper is opened and closed three times. The sprinklers play on the lawn. The porch light goes off.

Mornings here mean "have a good day," and a kiss goodbye and the dogs are back in the bed.

I woke up at 4:30 this morning and the only sounds were those of distant traffic and the murmurs of birds as they tried to catch another 40 winks. Having had both silence and chaos, I still don't know which I prefer.